Uncivil War
by Forever the Optimist
Summary: Donna and the Doctor travel across the pond to America to meet one of the most famous presidents in American history. However, when the Nestene Consciousness marshals once again to take over Earth, our heroes are thrown into a desperate race to save North America - or possibly destroy it.
1. Prologue

**April 8th, 1865, 10:37pm**

 _Knock knock._

"Come in."

She opens the door and goes in. There, sitting at a desk is a man, pen scratching away. This man is tall, very tall, and seems to his observer to be exhausted. His high collared shirt is undone at the neck, his hair rumpled, his eyes bloodshot. Finishing his sentence, he looks up.

"Ah, hello Mary, what can I do for you?"

She walks slowly over to stand in front of the desk, her movements rather stiff. With her hands behind her back, she says nothing, merely watches him.

"Mary? What's going on?"

He stands up, leaving the paper. She has to raise her head to keep him in her vision.

"Mary, love, I'm a very busy man with a war to plan, so if you wouldn't mind?"

She studies him for a moment more, then speaks.

"I bring a message from the Mother Consciousness."

He sighs. "Please, Mary, it's too late for foolishness like this."

"A message from the Mother Consciousness for President Lincoln."

"Mary, unless this has something to do with the war, please go away." He seems to brace himself, as though expecting a scolding, but none is forthcoming.

"The message pertains to your war."

"Mary?" He looks concerned now, as though finally recognizing that something is not as it should. He sits back down at his desk, his wary eyes never leaving her blank ones. "Very well, deliver your message."

"The Mother Consciousness wishes you to know that this war has brought and will bring thousands and thousands of deaths and will lay waste to your nation. It will divide your people, ruin your reputation with other, more powerful nations, and will sink you back years of progress."

"I know," he says, rubbing his eyes. "I know all of that. That's why this has got to end!"

Slowly she smiles, a grim, emotionless smile he hopes will never appear on his wife's face again.

"No, Mr. President. That's why this must continue. And you will make it so." She reaches out, her tiny hand stretching across the desk to lightly tough his suddenly panic-stricken face. He sees a flash of light, then nothing. She watches him collapse on the desk, a small triumphant smile twisting her features. "Thank you, Mr. President. You will be a great help to our cause.

* * *

 **A.N: Hello! Thanks for being brave and giving this a shot! Sorry this is so short, the first actual chapter will hopefully be up later today. Like I said, this is for a competition, so I will probably be constantly changing and updating this. I'd love any feedback, as I'm just not as solid on this as on my other Doctor Who fanfiction, The Mystery Girl (go check it out if you haven't!). So let me know what you think! Thanks ever so much!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


	2. Chapter 1

"Donna?"

The Doctor sat in the TARDIS console room, idly flipping his sonic screwdriver in the air. "Donna, are you up yet?" he called over his shoulder. "Places to be, you know. People to visit. Busy day." There was a thud and what sounded like muted cursing, and then the Doctor heard footsteps.

"Yeah, alright, I'm up. And this better be good, space boy." Donna stood behind him, leaning on one of the interior doors and holding a mug of tea. "I was on the phone with Grandad."

"Did you tell him hello from me?" he asked, glancing back at her. She smiled.

"You know I always do."

"Good." He flipped the screwdriver once more before stowing it in his coat pocket and jumping up. "So," he said, turning to face her at last, "where are we going today?"

She grinned. "Oh, I don't know. Somewhere exciting. Let's save someone."

"So, typical day, then," he retorted, grinning as well. "Could you be any more specific?"

"Hmm." She wandered over to the console, running her fingers along the panel. "Someone famous. I've always wanted to meet a famous person."

The Doctor looked mildly offended. "I'm famous!" he protested. "My name is known in dozens of galaxies in all of time and space. How can you get more famous than that?"

Donna pursed her lips. "Well, yes," she said, considering, "but you aren't recognizable. People don't see you walking down the street and say 'hey look, there's the Doctor!' I'm mean really famous. Like the Queen."

"Pfft." The Doctor started to prep the TARDIS for a journey, looking very annoyed. "I saved the world dozens of times. That famous enough for you?"

She shrugged. "Still not well known." She bumped his shoulder with his. "Besides," she said, looking up into his eyes, "you never wanted to be famous."

"Yeah, I 'spose you're right," he admitted with a small smile. He pulled a lever on the TARDIS and they heard the familiar whoorm as the machine took off. Donna automatically reached out to grab into the console for support, steadying her still-hot drink.

"So where are we going, then?" she asked impatiently. He grinned.

"Well, we wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, now would we?" She sighed. "Across and back, I'll tell you that much."

"You are completely impossible, you know that?" But she couldn't help grinning back. They sat for a moment, then the Doctor jumped up.

"Hold on a moment. Almost forgot." Snatching away her drink, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.

"What now?" she asked, looking longingly at her steaming tea.

"Just hold on. You'll see."

"Full of mystery today, are we?" she asked sarcastically.

Without answering, he tugged her out of the main console room, through corridors, around corners, up stairs, up and up and up until they burst through a doorway Donna had never seen. "What the-"

Clothes. The entire room was full of clothes. All types, shapes, sizes, and colors. Hanging from the walls, the ceiling, on racks, thrown in piles on the floor. Donna stared for a moment, slack-jawed, the turned on the Doctor.

"Got something against my clothes?" she demanded.

He stared at her, nonplussed. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Am I not smart-enough looking for you, is that it?" she continued angrily, warming to her theme. "I'm only a temp, you know, can't buy much on twenty thousand a year, can I, got to have food and the like-"

"Donna," began the Doctor, but she talked right over him.

"-but no, I suppose you think everyone's got to look as sharp as you do, don't they, everyone-"

"Donna!"

She stopped, face flushed. "What, then?"

"Donna, nothing like that!" he said, almost scandalized. "Of course you're good enough for me, you're brilliant! I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my best friend. And on a normal day, your clothes would be fine. It's just today calls for something a bit different, a bit more...period appropriate."

"Meaning what, exactly?" she asked, watching the Doctor rummage through a trunk. "Period appropriate? What period?"

"Mid-nineteenth century," he said, his voice muffled. "Maybe like..." He held up a floor-length black dress, covered in lace. "Eh?"

"Absolutely not," she said immediately. "I'd look like somebody died."

"Right," the Doctor said, tossing the heavy dress over his shoulder. "Bad omens. How about this?"

Donna looked at the frilly pastel green and pink ballgown he pulled out next in disgust. "I'm not twelve, you know," she said sharply. "And redheads can't wear pink."

He snorted. "Sounds like something your mum would say," he said, as that dress joined the other. "And I like your hair."

"It is something my mum would say," Donna retorted.

"Course," he said, amused. "Ooh, wait!" He dashed over to a hanging rack and pulled out a sky blue dress with a tremendous hoop skirt. "Here we go. Blue and red go together, don't they?"

Donna stared in horror. "I wouldn't be able to get through the TARDIS door!" she exclaimed.

"So that's a no, then?"

"No, definitely not."

"Fine." He added that dress to the pile and began pawing through the rack. "Really need to clean this place out," he muttered. She watched him rummage for a moment before walking over and pulling him away.

"Listen, I think I can dress myself, thanks. You pop off somewhere else, then. Hadn't you better look the part as well?"

"I suppose I had," he said, straightening up with a groan. "Blimey, my nine hundred years are catching up to me, I think. They don't warn you about that." He arched back for a moment, then stood up with a sigh. "That's better. You sure you can manage?"

"Reckon I can," she said with a grin. "It's just clothes, after all."

"Well, alright then," he said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Whatever you pick, make it fancy. Important day, after all. I'll be upstairs if you need me." He turned and headed up the staircase that arched around the side of the room. As he ascended, Donna could have sworn she saw him stroke the side of the TARDIS and whisper "Give her something stunning." Smiling to herself, Donna turned back to the rack of old dresses before her.

"Right then," she said under her breath, cracking her knuckles. "Just clothes."

* * *

"These...are not...clothes," Donna said loudly, wrestling with the laces of her chosen gown and puffing with exertion. "These...are torture devices!" It was a lovely dress: dark purple, seemingly made of silky-smooth ruffles, with a flared skirt large enough to fit in, but small enough to manage - or so she had thought. Choosing it had been one thing, getting it on was another matter entirely. She had flatly refused the corset found hanging next to it, regardless of how 'period appropriate' it might be. Donna did have to admit, finishing the fastenings at last and admiring herself in the convenient mirror, that she did look quite nice, and the dress itself was marvelous - but, in her opinion, far more trouble than it was worth.

"Well. Almost there," she told her reflection. She put a hand to her hair and sighed. She had very little idea what sort of hairstyles were common in the 1800s. About to give up in disgust, there came a chime from across the room. "Doctor?" she asked, looking around for the source of the sound.

"Yes, what is it?" came the reply from above.

"There was a sort of noise," she called up. "Like an oven door." The sound came again. "That," she said, walking to the center of the room. "Did you hear it?"

"Probably just the TARDIS. Go see what she wants." Cautiously, Donna wandered over in the general direction of the chime. Rounding a corner she felt sure had not been there before, she found a vanity table, fully equipped, and, best of all, several pictures tacked up on the wall - pictures, Donna assumed, of exactly the sort of styles she needed.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "That is brilliant!" Then, after checking that the Doctor was nowhere in sight, she gave the wall of the TARDIS a pat. "Thank you," she whispered. Then she sat down and got to work.

* * *

"Well," said the Doctor, beaming, as Donna made her grand entrance to the console room. "Look at you!" Donna smiled, carefully holding her skirts in one hand.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning this way and that. "Will that do?" She had added long purple gloves to her ensemble, as well as a small beaded purse.

"Belle of the ball," he said, giving her a small bow. She attempted a curtsy, then laughed when she wobbled.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she said, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing a crisp black suit with a white cravat that only served to emphasize his narrow figure. "Have I mentioned how ridiculously skinny you are?"

"On at least one occasion," he said, helping her to a seat. She swatted his hand away, which, she noticed, was covered in fine white gloves, and settled herself into one of the chairs, spreading her dress out around her. They sat in companionable silence for a bit, enjoying the ride, then Donna spoke up.

"Does it ever occur to you how strange this all is?" she asked him, waving a hand at the TARDIS console, which was still pumping up and down in flight. "I mean, right now, we're traveling through space and time in a phone box. A phone box! Do you know how mad that sounds? And now we're going who-knows-where and who-knows-when, do you have any idea how impossible that all is? And just look at this dress!"

The Doctor considered this for a moment. "Well," he said at last, "it depends on your perspective. I do that every day. It's perfectly ordinary to me. Maybe you're the impossible one." Before Donna could respond, they heard the same recognizable noise that meant that they had landed. "Alright, Doctor. Where are we?"

He grinned. "Go see for yourself." With a longsuffering sigh, she walked over to the double doors, giving the Doctor a shove as she passed him. She pulled open one of the doors and peered out.

They had landed on a large grassy lawn, very well taken care of. Donna could see a road running across the lawn, filled with pedestrians. All were dressed in old-fashioned clothing. "So we have gone back in time, then," she murmured. The Doctor, leaning on the door frame behind her, nodded.

"1865, if I'm not mistaken."

"Okay," she said slowly, looking around. "1865. Why not. We'll fit right in."

"Well, you've got the when," he told her encouragingly. "Now you just need the where."

She made a face. "And how am I supposed to know that?" she asked impatiently.

"Simple," he replied. "Just look around."

Donna looked farther, past the busy street. "Some fancy white building," she said. "Fat lot of good that does. There must be millions of those in Europe!" The Doctor laughed. "What?" she demanded. He waved a hand at her.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Carry on." She looked at him suspiciously.

"Well, come on, then," she said. "You'll have to give me more than that."

The Doctor smiled at her. "Try turning around." She glared at him. "Go on," he said, twirling his finger in a circle. "The TARDIS has four sides, you know." Donna sighed, but walked around the corner of the blue box before her.

"I still don't see what-" She stopped. There before her, across the lawn, stood an enourmous white pillar. It was already quite tall, but seemed unfinished. "What's that supposed to be?"

"The Washington Monument," the Doctor replied, coming around the corner to stand next to her. "Well, part of it, at least. They ran out of money a dozen years ago and shut it down for a bit. Won't get finished for another twenty years or so."

She gaped at him. "But that means we're in America! Washington D.C! The capitol of America."

"Well done!" he said, beaming. "I knew you'd get it. Brilliant, you are. But that," he added, pointing at the unfinished monument in front of them, "isn't what we're here to see. Come on!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her along down the lawn, towards a large white building opposite the monument.

"What about the TARDIS?" Donna asked, looking behind her as they hurried along. "And why the rush?"

The Doctor looked at her a moment, then at the distance they had covered. "Habit, I suppose," he said ruefully, slowing his pace. "As for the TARDIS..." He pulled the key out of his pocket and held it up. There was a quick _chirp chirp_ and the light on top flashed twice. "There," he said, looking immensely proud of himself. "Locked up tight."

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Oh, very clever," she said sarcastically. "Just like a car, well how brilliant. And I suppose you think it's hilarious?"

His face was all the answer she needed. "Well, it is, a bit...Oh, never mind. We've got things to do." He offered her his arm. "Miss Noble?" Smiling, she tucked her arm through his. "Let's be off, then."

They hadn't gone more than a few steps before Donna said, "Hold on, you never said where we're going!"

"Oh," he said, face full of teasing distress, "didn't I? I was sure I did. I must have." Donna said nothing, only waited. "Well, you said someone famous, well-known, like the Queen."

"I did, yes," she said, giving him a shove. "And?"

He smiled down at her. "How do you fancy President Lincoln?"

* * *

 **A.N: Hello, hello! And the adventure begins. This turned out to be a good deal longer than expected, which, if you've read my other fics, you know happens rather a lot. In any case, this is my first time writing for both the 10th Doctor and Donna, and I had a bit of trouble getting into their heads to write for them. I've found I'm much more comfortable with the 11th. How do you folks think I did? Like I said, this is for a competition, and I will most likely be replacing this at least once, based on the feedback I get, but that does, of course, depend on me getting feedback. Please and thank you. Again, thank you for reading and supporting me in this, and hopefully I will be back with another update soon! Much love!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**

 **P.S: I will probably post a link to a picture of Donna's dress in my profile, if you're interested**


	3. Chapter 2

"What do we do?" hissed Donna through her teeth to the Doctor as she nodded politely to a young couple walking by. They were strolling down Pennsylvania Avenue, the White House gates fast approaching, and Donna still had very little idea how they were going to get in.

"Walk up. Act natural," the Doctor said, smiling down at her. "Smile. Be confident, that's very important. And don't wander off." He led her up to the wrought iron gates and pushed them open. "After you," he said with a slight bow. She turned up her nose and walked through as primly as she could. However, she couldn't hide the slightest of grins that fought its way onto her face. He followed her through, pulling the gate closed behind them, then took her arm again and led the way up the drive. Donna glanced back at the gate.

"But shouldn't there be...I don't know, guards or something? What's to stop some lunatic from just walking in?"

The Doctor looked at her, amused. "Like us, you mean?" She flushed. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "the Secret Service won't start up for another few months yet, not until...well, anyway. Common courtesy was more common at this time, I suppose. Nothing personal, of course," he added hastily, seeing the look on his companion's face. "I imagine there'll be someone at the door to send us packing."

Donna eyed the quickly nearing door. "But they won't, will they?"

The Doctor snorted. "'Course not. With my mouth and your temper, they wouldn't stand a chance."

"Oi, space boy, watch it," Donna said with a glare.

"Ah, there it is," he said with an affectionate grin. She gave him a little shove. "Come on. Let's go turn some heads."

In no time at all, they had reached the portico. They ascended the staircases, Donna carefully holding up her skirts, and strolled boldly across to the door. "Now what?" Donna whispered.

"Knock," the Doctor answered, and reached out one gloved hand to knock three times on the great wooden door. No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing. "You'd think you'd get better service at a place like this," he muttered. "I wonder why..." Donna, however, pushed past him and yanked on the heavy bellpull. Moments later, they heard footsteps, gradually coming closer. Donna smiled a rather superior smile.

"Figures," she said. "902 years old and still can't manage do get things done." Before the Doctor could reply, the door was opened by a man, presumably a butler, who was dressed almost as finely as the Doctor himself.

"Can I help you?" the man said with a stiff smile.

"Yes," said the Doctor, wiping the indignation off his face and replacing it with his most charming expression. "We're here to see President Lincoln."

The man nodded, clearly familiar with this sort of request. "Are you? Why?"

"I am John Smith, and this is Donna Noble. We are ambassadors from Her Majesty, the Queen of England, here to meet with your president regarding matters of international importance. Our credentials." He pulled a large sheet of blank paper out of an inner pocket and presented it to the politely skeptical man with a flourish. The butler took it and appeared to read it, although what Donna couldn't see, then handed it back, his whole manner changed.

"Of course, Mr. Smith, Miss Noble, welcome to Washington. I am Thomas Pendel, humble doorkeeper for Mr. Lincoln, and I-"

"Miss Noble?" Donna asked suddenly. "Why are you calling me miss, do I look single?"

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Donna, not now, please." She subsided, abashed. "Thank you." He turned to the rather bemused butler. "You can take us inside now."

"Of course, sir, of course," said Mr. Pendel hurriedly, bowing slightly. "Right this way." He led them through a large rectangular vestibule, across a hallway and into a large oblong room. "The Blue Room," he said, ushering them in. "Please wait here. Mr. Lincoln will receive you shortly." He bowed and exited the room, waving off their thanks.

"Ambassadors, are we?" Donna asked, her voice low. "That'd've been nice to know. Why?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Accents," he said with a grin. "Had to think of something. And isn't it more fun when you don't know all that's going on? Too much foreknowledge takes the excitement out of everything." Donna was forced to agree. They settled into a couch to wait.

"I can see why it's called the Blue Room," she commented. Everything was blue: the walls, the heavy drapes, the furniture, carpets, everything. Much of it had gold trim as well, but the overall sensation was almost overwhelming. "I clash terribly." The Doctor laughed.

"Yes, I see what you mean. I believe they also have a Green Room and a Red Room."

"How clever."

"Quite."

They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, before Mr. Pendel came back. "Excuse me, Your Excellencies, I am to show you upstairs. Follow me, please."

"Certainly," said the Doctor, getting to his feet and offering Donna a hand. They followed the doorkeeper out the door and down a hall, then up a grand staircase. Donna couldn't help but marvel at the finery of it all. After being led down another long hall, they were shown at last into a reception room, where they were told to wait until they were called.

The small room was packed with people of all ages and stations. The elderly, children, the obviously rich, the obviously poor. Donna and the Doctor found themselves shoved in a corner, well out of the way. Donna found herself next to an older man, clearly quite frail, who was leaning against the wall. He glanced up at Donna as she wedged her dress into the small space, then looked away, as though he hadn't the energy to maintain eye contact. Donna glanced over at the Doctor, who had taken out his glasses and was polishing them, then turned back to the man.

"Hello," she said awkwardly. "I'm Donna Noble. What are you doing here?"

The man grunted. "Waiting to see President Lincoln," he said, his voice wheezing. "What else?"

"And all these people," Donna continued, waving a hand at the crowded room, "they want to see him as well?"

"'Course." He looked at her sideways. "You foreign or something?"

Donna smiled. "S'pose you could say that," she said ruefully. "Why do you want to see him?"

The man looked down at his gnarled hands. "My son. Sentenced to death for some military offense. I'm hoping Mr. Lincoln can clear his name and bring him home to the missus in Tennessee."

Impulsively, Donna reached out to touch his arm, real sympathy in her eyes. "I'm certain he can help you," she said comfortingly. "How long have you been waiting?"

"Four days."

Donna reeled back. "Four days?" He nodded, his eyes full of a father's pain and worry. She turned to the Doctor. "How long are we going to have to wait?" she asked in a whisper. He checked his watch.

"Dunno. Hopefully not long. Why? Out of patience already?" Donna chose to ignore that. She jerked her head towards the old man.

"He's been here four days."

"What?" She nodded. "Well, we'll have to do something about that," he said, slipping his glasses on. Just then, the door opened and a man walked in. Instantly, everyone turned to look at him, faces full of hopeful expectation.

"Thank you all for your patience," he said, his voice brisk but not unkind. "If I could-"

"Excuse me," the Doctor said, slipping over to the man's side. "I'm Ambassador Smith, one of the Royal Ambassadors from England, here on a matter of some urgency. We need an audience with the president right away." He once again produced the psychic paper for the man, who read it, then smiled politely.

"Pleased to meet you, Your Excellency. I'm sure Mr. Lincoln would be willing to see you shortly." The Doctor nodded, then held out a hand to Donna.

"Ambassador Noble," he said by way of introduction. "My companion."

"General Fisk, officer in the army of the Union. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, taking Donna's hand and kissing it. Then, as she blushed, he said, "If you could please follow me." He led the way out the door and down a short hall, Donna and the Doctor following behind.

"I rather like this one," she whispered to the Doctor. He gave her an amused smile.

"You would," he said under his breath. She glared.

"But what's all this 'Your Excellency' business?"

"Proper term of address for a foreign ambassador," he answered. "Apparently we make a convincing case."

"Right in here, Your Excellencies," General Fisk said, stopping in front of a wooden door. The Doctor dropped Donna a subtle wink. "I'll pop in and tell him you're here." He ducked through the door, leaving them alone in the hallway.

They waited in silence for a bit before Donna whispered, "Doctor, I don't think we should be doing this. Wasting his time. Those people need to see him. We're just...just sightseers. That's all. It seems a bit selfish."

"Nonsense," he said brusquely. "I promised you someone famous, didn't I? It's a bit late to back out now. He's expecting us." Donna did not look convinced. He sighed. "Besides, this way we might be able to help out that fellow you were talking to. Not selfish. Helpful. See?"

Before Donna could respond, General Fisk had reappeared. "Mr. Lincoln awaits you in his office," he said with a welcoming smile, holding the door open to let them pass. The Doctor shook his hand and thanked him kindly, then the two entered the office of the President.

It was a small room, smaller than Donna had expected for a place that housed such important going-ons. There was a large walnut table in the middle of the room. A large armchair stood between two windows, as well as two large sofas and several wooden chairs. A small writing desk stood against one wall, a large fireplace built into another. All were covered with books, maps, and piles of loose papers. The whole room was lit by gaslight, as well as the natural light from the windows. The President himself sat at a large mahogany desk, busily writing a letter. He looked up when they came in, followed by General Fisk, who waited just inside the door.

"Ah, welcome!" he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for the Doctor to shake. "Ambassador Smith, I assume? And Mrs. Smith?"

"Oh no," Donna said hurriedly. "We're not married."

"Not even a little bit," the Doctor hastened to add. "Just, er, colleages."

"Colleagues, right," agreed Donna.

"My apologies," the President said, shaking Donna's hand. "Then you are Ambassador..."

"Noble. Donna Noble."

"Ambassador Noble. Wonderful to meet you," he said with a genuine smile. "Welcome to America. How can I help you?" He was looking straight at Donna as he asked this.

"Er..." Donna paused. "Well...first, there's a man outside, an old man who needs to see you very badly. A matter of life and death. He's been waiting a very long time."

The President nodded. "Thank you for telling me. General Fisk? Find this man, please, and take down his case. I'll review it as soon as I can." The General saluted and left the room. "Now then. I assume you had more to tell me than that?"

"Yes, of course," Donna said, panicking slightly. She really had no idea what pretense they were there under. "We...well, we-"

"We are here to meet you, first of all," inserted the Doctor smoothly, while Donna nodded and tried to look as though she'd known this all along, "and to offer the continued support and condolences of the United Kingdoms towards your struggles."

"Nice one," Donna whispered.

"Thanks," he answered, giving no indication he'd heard her. "We bring a letter from Her Majesty." Once again, he pulled out the psychic paper and handed it over to the President, who waved it away.

"No, no, I don't need that. Give that to Mr. Brooks. Noah!" he called. Moments later, a young man with rather dashing good looks entered the room. "Noah, may I introduce Ambassadors John Smith and Donna Noble? Ambassadors, Noah Brooks, my personal secretary." Brooks smiled and held out a hand for the Doctor to shake.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, his voice curiously flat. "What can I do for you, Mr. President?" he asked. Before he could respond, Donna interrupted.

"Excuse me, are you ill?" Brooks turned to her, his face an expression of polite bafflement.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you ill?" she asked again. "You're sort of yellow. Like your skin is shining. Look at him, Doctor!" she said, grabbing her companion's arm. Brooks's expression turned to one of disdain.

"That is hardly the sort of question a lady asks a gentleman, Your Excellency," he said, his strange, flat voice haughty. "And here I thought England was the height of culture and society." He shrugged. "I suppose we all make mistakes."

Donna flushed. "Oh, that is it!" she said, starting towards him angrily. The Doctor caught her arm and held her back.

"Easy," he said, looking intently at the man before him. "Mr. President," he said slowly, "could we speak to you alone for a moment?"

"Of course," said Lincoln immediately. "Noah, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Certainly, Mr. President," Brooks said with a bow. "I'll just lock the door behind me. I'd hate for you to be disturbed."

"Yes, do, thank you," Lincoln said absentmindedly.

"One moment," the Doctor said, pulling out his sonic screwdriver. "A prototype camera," he said in explanation, pointing it at Brooks. "I said I'd take a picture for my daughter." He scanned the man for a moment, then stowed it back in his jacket pocket. "Thank you for your patience," he said brightly. "That's all I needed." Unsettled, Brooks left, shooting Donna one last glare over his shoulder, which she returned in earnest. Once they heard the lock click, the President sank down into his desk chair.

"I'm terribly sorry about that," he said, rubbing his eyes. "He isn't normally so rude."

"Well, neither is she," the Doctor said, jerking his head in Donna's direction.

"Oh," she exclaimed, indignant, and stomped on his foot. The Doctor doubled over, clutching his wounded limb.

"Or maybe she is," he gasped. He sat down in a wooden chair in front of the desk, stretching out his leg. "Was that really necessary?" he asked, glancing over at Donna. She sniffed and looked away. "Anyway, back to the point, then," he said, with a pointed look at Donna. "Mr. President. How long have you known Mr. Brooks, how long has he worked for you?"

"Well," Lincoln said, considering, "he's worked here since the beginning of this year, I've known him longer than that, for certain. Why do you ask?"

"And does he seem at all odd to you?" the Doctor persisted. "Acting differently, doing strange things?"

"No, not at all," the President replied. "If anything, the quality of his work has gone up of late."

The Doctor nodded. "Mr. President, I don't know how to say this, exactly, so I'll be blunt. Mr. Brooks is not human."

"Not human?" Lincoln asked, eyes wide with disbelief. "Of course he's human! What else would he be?"

"He's an Auton," the Doctor said quickly, leaning over the desk to look Lincoln right in the eyes. "A plastic robot controlled by a larger central brain, the Nestene Consciousness. A, a sort of mind meld. Hive mind. I'm afraid he may have been gathering information and manipulating your war for months."

Mr. Lincoln was visibly shocked. "Mr. Brooks? I can't believe it, Doctor. He's been so very helpful."

The Doctor leaned in even closer, staring at the powerful man before him. "You called me 'Doctor'," he said quietly. "Why did you call me that?"

"That's your name, is it not?" Lincoln stood up, towering over the much shorter Time Lord before him. He smiled, a cold, calculating smile. "Oh, Doctor. It's been a very long time. We have missed you terribly."

The Doctor slowly backed away, pulling out the sonic and holding it up. "Doctor, what's going on?" Donna hissed. "How does he know you?"

"Donna," the Doctor said quietly, "I'm afraid you won't be meeting Mr. Lincoln today."

"What are you talking about?" she asked angrily, impatient and scared. She watched the President slowly raise his right hand to waist level, fingers forming a flat vertical blade pointed right at them. The Doctor looked down at her.

"Donna," he said quickly, "do you trust me?" She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Then do whatever I say, alright?" She nodded again, then gasped as she saw Mr. Lincoln's fingers seem to break off and swing down, revealing a large metal tube - a gun barrel.

"Doctor," she said, voice trembling, "Doctor, look!" He turned quickly, then grabbed her hand. "Now what?" she cried. "What's the plan? Dear God, please tell me you have a plan." He grinned at her, almost maniacally.

"Basically: run."

* * *

 **A.N: Holy fricking crap this is soooo long! Agh! Almost 3k words. Unbelievable. Sorry about that. I debated splitting it in two, but this is how it's going. Yay! Thank you all so so so much for the input I've been given here, you've been quite helpful. Again, any anything you want to say, let me know, because I am determined to make this story the very best that it can be! Much love to you all!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


	4. Chapter 3

Donna scrambled back as the Auton Lincoln fired, narrowly missing her head. "Donna!" the Doctor yelled, pulling her down behind a large armchair. "Run for the door, get out as soon as you can, we don't know how many more of them - look out!"

He threw himself at Donna, knocking her to the floor as the Auton fired again. "Go, Donna," he yelled, scrambling to his feet and seizing a wooden chair. "I'll hold him off!" He held the chair up defensively. The Auton looked at him condescendingly, an expression out of place on the kindly President's craggy face.

"Surrender, Doctor," it said, voice expressionless. "You have no weapons, no protection."

"That's never stopped me before," he said grimly, hoisting the chair higher. There was a flash and a bang as the Auton fired, leaving a smoking hole in the chair and singeing the Doctor's crisp sleeve. "Donna, go!"

"I can't!" she cried, still sprawled on the floor. "This stupid dress..." Indeed, her large skirt, fashionable though it might be, was not at all easy to maneuver in.

"Right then," he said. "Backup plan." And he heaved the smoking chair at the Auton. It collided with the large writing desk, sending papers, books, and splinters of wood everywhere, temporarily blinding them from view and knocking over the plastic President. Without hesitating a beat, he grabbed Donna's hand and pulled her roughly to her feet. "Get to the door," he yelled, dragging her along behind him. She fought her way through the furniture and the flying papers to a door handle.

"Doctor, over here," she yelled, and he was there. He quickly blasted the lock with his sonic and the door popped open. They dashed inside, ducking as the Auton, back on its feet, fired another bolt just over their heads, and slammed the door behind them. Donna slumped against it, panting, while the Doctor pulled out his screwdriver and locked the door up tight.

"Nice, thick door. Should keep them out," he muttered, before turning around. He took two steps, ready to run, and then stopped. "Er, Donna," he said carefully, "there didn't happen to be two doors?"

They were standing in not the long hallway they had come in by, but nothing less than the presidential bathroom. It was a small closet-like space, furnished only with a toilet, a tarnished mirror, and an old-fashioned sink with a single thick pipe leading down and then bending into the wall. Donna was glaring at him. "Well," he said with an attempt at a smile, "just a setback, nothing we can't handle."

"A setback," she said, disgusted and incredulous. "You call _this,"_ she said emphatically, gesturing around her, "a setback? The President of the United States is a plastic robot that's trying to _kill_ us, and we're trapped in a blinking _loo!"_

"Ah, come on, Donna," the Doctor said, now kneeling by the sink and fiddling with the pipes. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Adventure?" she cried, indignant. "Is that all this is to you, some grand adventure? Never mind that the biggest country in the West in being led by a robot, never mind that there's dozens of people in here who could die at any minute, _including us,_ no, you just want to have an adventure." The door rattled and jumped as the Auton began firing at it. "And now you're fixing their _plumbing?_ "

He looked up at her, expression unreadable. "Donna, I've seen more people die, seen more destruction, caused more destruction and death and pain than you can possibly imagine. I do know what's at stake." He paused, lost in thought, then snapped back to reality with a grin. "But you might as well take the thrill where you can get it, eh? Now, I hope you didn't bother to shower this morning."

" _What?"_

"This'll fix you right up." With no further ado, the Doctor zapped the pipes with the screwdriver, breaking them apart. Water sprayed everywhere, drenching them both. Quickly, he tore out the bent piece, reducing the pressure, so that water now gushed out and flooded the floor, rather than spraying up and out. Donna gasped as the cold water hit her, rapidly soaking through her many layers and filling her shoes.

"What the hell was that for?" she cried, wiping water out of her eyes and flicking it angrily at the Doctor, who got to his feet, pipe in hand, and grabbed a bar of soap off the edge of the sink, which he shoved in his pocket. "Soap?" she asked incredulously. "And what are you doing now?"

"Reinforcing the metal," he said, blasting the entire surface of the pipe with the sonic screwdriver and filling the small room with reflected blue light. "Rearranging its atomic structure so it can withstand an Auton blast."

"You're going to fight off a robot with a _pipe?"_

"And a bar of soap. Do not discount the soap." She stared. "Wet soap is very good for repelling firepower. Good shock absorber." She still did not look convinced. He sighed. "Donna, I need you to trust me," he said urgently. "When I tell you to, open the door as fast as you can and get out of the way. Stay low, run for the door - the other door - and get out. Lock the door behind you, we don't want that thing getting out. Get back to that other room and get the people out, however you can."

"They won't listen to me," she said desperately. "I'm only a temp from Chiswick, I'm no one special. And just look at me."

The Doctor smiled. "You're no temp," he said. "Not today. Today you're the Royal Ambassador. You've got all the authority of the throne behind you. And even on a normal day, you're far more than just a temp." She looked away. "Here, take this," he said, handing her his sonic.

"Doctor, no," she said, recoiling back. "That's yours. You need it."

"You need it more." He pressed it into her hand. "We've no idea which people might be Autons. Check them all. Just point it at them and push the button. If it buzzes, they're not real."

"I can't even change a plug!"

"Donna." He looked her right in the eyes. "You can do this. Take it."

She shook her head, eyes full of worry and pain. "It's too much like saying goodbye."

He softened, clasping her hand. "Donna, you're my best mate. I won't leave you behind. I'll come as quickly as I can, I promise. Alright?"

She nodded, her face pale. "You better come," she said, grabbing his hand and gripping it tight. "You better be right behind me or I swear to God I will never forgive you." He smiled and released her hand, leaving her the sonic screwdriver.

"When aren't I?" he asked, a sort of kind sadness in his voice. The door rattled again, this time making cracks in the plaster around the hinges. "Are you ready?" She nodded again, placing a trembling hand on the doorknob. "Right then. Count of three. One." he said, holding up his pipe as she popped the lock. "Two." She turned the door handle, which rattled under her hands as the door was fired upon from the other side.

"Wait!" she said. Quickly, she shoved the screwdriver into the bodice of her dress. "No pockets."

The Doctor looked at her warily. "I will be wanting that back, you know." She raised an eyebrow.

"Coward."

He shook his head, grinning. "Alright," he said. "One, two, three!"

Quick as she could, Donna flung the door open and dropped to the floor, revealing the waiting Auton with gun at the ready. She rolled out of the way as the Doctor sprang forward and jammed the upturned pipe on the end of the Auton's firing arm. Just as the it fired, he shoved the soap into the end, clamping down on it. The blast ricocheted down the Doctor's arm as the blast rebounded along the reinforced pipe and back into the gun barrel. The giant man recoiled, shaking his smoking limb.

"Bar of soap and a pipe!" the Doctor cried triumphantly. "Bet that didn't feel too good, did it?" He flapped his hand at Donna, who was crouched against the wall, watching, awestruck. "Donna, go! Get them out!" She scrambled to her feet and ran for the door, but turned back.

"Doctor-"

"I promise," he said reassuringly. She took one last look at him, standing in the middle of a destroyed office, dripping wet, while the President flailed around, one arm smoking. He smiled. "I never break a promise."

"Liar," she muttered. But she turned and hurried out of the room.

* * *

 **A.N: Hello, all! I know this chapter is a good deal shorter than the last one, but this was really the only good stopping place for a while yet, so this is where it'll end for now! So! What'd you think? That typical Doctor enough for you? I had a great deal of fun coming up with that. I would like to add that everything, from the floor plan of the White House to the old man sitting and waiting is as accurate as I could possibly make it and that all characters found within this story are either from the show or real historical figures. Lots and lots of research going into this. Hopefully it all pays off! Again, this is competitive, so if you see anything that rubs you wrong, let me know! I'm determined that this go well. Again, I'm fixing these chapters often, so expect some changes! This is version number six, I believe. Thanks bunches to all AliciaRoseFantasy for her reviews and my two precious follows. Got to start somewhere, right? Thanks for reading! Allon-sy!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


	5. Chapter 4

"Excuse me, everyone, if I could please have your attention."

All around the reception room, heads turned to stare at the woman with the odd accent standing in the doorway in a soaking gown and bedraggled hair. "Thank you," she said uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the many pairs of eyes taking in her sorry appearance. "There's been a slight emergency. Mr. Lincoln has asked me to get you all to somewhere safe. If you could come with me."

"And who are you?" came a brash voice from the back of the room. "By what authority are you telling us this?"

Donna drew on all the dignity and indignation she possessed. "I'm the Royal Ambassador for the Queen of England, and who're you?"

A tall man with thick brown hair stood up. "Andrew Johnson," he said pompously, "Vice President to Mr. Lincoln."

Donna looked him up and down once, critically. "Charmed," she said dismissively. "Now if you could all come with me, we need to get out of here as fast as possible."

"Ambassador-" Johnson began.

"Your Excellency, is the proper term of address," Donna corrected him haughtily, secretly enjoying at least the illusion of power.

"Your Excellency, then," he said with a snide little bow. "I do not take orders, and I do not believe Mr. Lincoln sent you here. Where is Mr. Brooks? Why didn't Mr. President come himself? What is going on?"

Donna turned to him, her expression one of utter disdain. "Alright, listen. You want to know what's going on? Your President is in danger, very real danger, and he needs help. You need to come with me, alright? So anyone who wants to live, let's go."

A ringing silence greeted her words. Then, slowly, an older woman in the back of the room stood up. "I'm coming," she said, her voice quavering. "You look like you've been through a tough time, dear. I don't want any part of it." She looked at Donna, steel glinting in her cloudy eyes. "I'll follow you wherever you lead, your Excellency."

"Oh...er, thank you," said Donna, rather touched. "Who are you?"

"Elizabeth Humphrey Todd. The President's mother-in-law," she explained with a smile at Donna's blank look. "Call me Betsy."

"Thank you, Betsy," Donna said, smiling back at what she sensed to be a kindred spirit. "Anyone else?" Slowly, in ones and twos, people drifted over to stand by her. At last only a few remained stubbornly in their seats, the pompous vice president among them. "Right then. Before we go, I've got to...er...scan you. With this." She pulled the screwdriver out of her bodice, ignoring the scandalized looks she got from women and men alike. "One at a time, please. It's for my companion. Prototype camera," she said, remembering his earlier reasoning. "He has the oddest ideas." _More than you could possibly imagine,_ she thought ruefully.

For a moment, no one seemed willing to come anywhere the odd-looking device, but then Betsy seized the closest young man and shoved him forward. "Go on, then," she said, her voice brisk. "Be a leader." Startled, the handsome gentleman staggered forward. Donna held up the screwdriver, then turned back to Betsy.

"What's the best way out of here?" she asked.

"There's a smaller staircase just across the hall," the older woman replied immediately. "Hardly anyone uses it this time of day. I'll go and check it out, if you like."

"Wonderful," she said. Then, as the old woman bustled off, she turned back to the young man", who was visibly frightened. "It won't hurt," she said encouragingly. "Just stand still." _Alright, point and press the button,_ she thought. She held the screwdriver up to the trembling man before her and pushed. He recoiled as he was bathed in blue light, and Donna tensed, feeling the telltale buzz. "Alright," she said. "See? No harm done. But you're one of the ones Mr. Lincoln was looking for," she improvised wildly. "He said he'll meet you in...Mr. Brooks's office." With a wary glance, he skirted around her as far as the doorway would allow and darted into the hallway. Donna sighed in relief. "Next person, please."

Slowly, every willing person was examined, Betsy prodding forward each one in turn. She felt the sonic vibrate only twice, on a man in a military officer's jacket and a woman in a simple cotton dress and a Boston accent. These two she sent after the first young man, down the hall to the unknown office, which she hoped was very far away. The rest she set aside to wait, figuring that 'divide and conquer' was not the best strategy. Donna was pleased to see that both General Fisk and the old man were perfectly human, and engaged in deep conversation. When at last everyone in her little group had been checked, she turned to a young woman who appeared to be a servant and seemed capable enough.

"Do you know where this staircase is?" she asked. Trembling, the young girl nodded.

"Perfect," Donna said. "Lead the way." The woman bobbed a curtsy, then started leading people out the door. Donna started to help, but was pulled aside by none other than Andrew Johnson. She propped her hands on her hips. "And what do you want?" she asked impatiently.

"Listen, ma'am," he said belligerently, "I don't believe you're an ambassador at all. I don't know who you are or what you want, but if you're lying, you're willing to go to great lengths to back up your story. That kind of determination is rare in a man and impossible in a woman."

"Impossible?" spat Donna, outraged and indignant. "Well, guess what, mate-"

"Therefore," he continued, talking over her outburst, "I am inclined to believe your story."

"-if you think that just because I'm female-"Donna stopped mid-sentence and gaped at him. Johnson regarded her in no small amusement.

"I will admit I have never traveled to England," he said, "but I cannot imagine that this is at all typical behavior. Terribly improper." Donna swelled, furious once more, but as she opened her mouth to begin again, he continued, "but I must say I find it oddly refreshing." She halted again and stared at him for a moment, bewildered. Then she snapped back to herself.

"Whatever you want, out with it," she snapped.

It was his turn to be unsettled. "You are a very blunt woman, aren't you?" he said, almost admiringly. "Now, Mr. Lincoln and I may not agree on everything, but he is the leader of our nation, and that nation is and always will be my first priority. If he is in danger, it is my duty to do all that I can to preserve him." He took a deep breath. "I will come with you."

Donna glared at him, her face full of intense dislike. On one hand, she really didn't want him around to deal with, but she couldn't very well just leave him for the Autons and escape with a clear conscience. "Fine. But I've got to scan you first."

Johnson gave her a short, insolent bow. "If you must." Irritated, she held up the screwdriver and beamed the light vindictively in his eyes. To his credit, he did not flinch or look away. Donna felt no buzz, and was almost disappointed. "Right then," she said, jamming the sonic back down her dress. He watched her with distaste.

"Er...do you need a better place to keep that?" he asked carefully. She raised an eyebrow.

"Are you volunteering?" she scoffed. He shrugged.

"Well, I do have pockets." She glared for a moment, then relented, handing it over.

"If anything happens to that, I will _personally_ make your life hell," she warned him. He smiled.

"That's a chance I'm willing to take," he said cheerfully. "Well, let's go, then." He offered her his arm. "Danger, remember?"

She watched him a moment, almost disbelieving, then took it. "Right, then," she said, looking up at him with a cheeky grin. "Let's go."

* * *

 **A.N: Hi again! Two chapters in one day, I know, crazy stuff, but I badly wanted to get this done. Tomorrow I will hopefully begin the Doctor's side of events, because we've obviously left him behind, so that should be good fun. I'm greatly enjoying writing for Donna, and I'll be sad when this is over, but anyway. That is yet to come. We've got a fair few things to take care of first, including, you know, America. So. Thank you for reading and putting up with my many updates, because no doubt this one will get changed a bit as well. They always seem to, somehow. Also, if you like this story and haven't already, feel free to go check out my other Doctor Who story, The Mystery Girl. It's a good deal longer and much more complicated than this one, so that's always fun. Much love to you all, my faithful few!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


	6. Chapter 5

"I never break a promise," the Doctor said with a smile.

"Liar," Donna muttered, and he winced, but she left the office at last. He watched her go, then heard the familiar sonic noise and the click of the lock, then receding footsteps. He sighed, then turned around just in time to see the Auton President dislodge the pipe from its gun barrel and throw it at the Time Lord's head. The Doctor ducked and the pipe smashed into the wall behind him, leaving a mark on the wallpaper.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked weakly, straightening back up. The Auton looked at him, its face expressionless.

"So how did you do it?" he inquired, tone friendly. "Getting to the President, making a copy...must have been a chore. Where did it start?"

The Auton said nothing. "Oh, come on!" drawled the Doctor. "I'm sure it's brilliant. Be appreciated for a change, hey?"

"We sent an energy unit to Earth, landing it on a ship that was coming into a port that the humans call 'Boston.' We took control of the ship and made duplicates of everyone on it. From there is was easy to make copies of the necessary people. This form was copied by his wife." Lincoln smiled. "Never trust the ones you love, Doctor."

"So where is Lincoln now?" he asked. "The real Lincoln, I mean. Still alive, I hope?"

"His life is necessary to maintain this form," the plastic man admitted. "He is being kept."

"Kept?" But the Auton would say no more.

"What do you lot want, anyway?" the Doctor asked, slowly edging along the wall towards the heavy writing desk. "Coming to America, replacing the leader during its first Civil War, what's the point? Power, domination, survival, there's always a point."

"The Nestene Consciousness is growing," said the plastic Lincoln, his voice echoing oddly, as though many voices were layered over one another. "Learning. This planet has thwarted us many times, but no more. It will not feed."

"It?" asked the Doctor, still creeping towards the desk. "Who's 'it'?"

The Auton's craggy face darkened. "The Other," it said, voice full of barely controlled rage. "The Child of the Mother Consciousness. It lives alone, growing in strength and cunning and hatred. It seeks to destroy us, destroy the life-giver, destroy the Mother. This cannot be so. You will help us preserve our kind."

"The Child of the Mother Consciousness...Oh ho!" exclaimed the Doctor. "I see! You've had a, a, a falling out. A Civil War of your own. Kid's grown up and flown the coop, eh? Part of you's broken off to live on its own, and you're scared of it. Because it's bigger than you, stronger than you, or it will be. And you want me to help destroy it? Sorry, mate, that's not my style. But..." The Doctor paused, reaching the end of his understanding. "Why Earth? What's this planet, this country got to do with it?"

"The Other needs to feed," it explained. "It is too weak to move from this planet, but Earth will soon be full of everything it needs, and it will come. We cannot allow this to happen."

"The Industrial Revolution," the Doctor breathed. "Machinery, factories, plastics, labor, oh yes, that'll suit you just fine. Everything you need to be strong and take over the planet, everything this Other needs. And if it gets hold of all that...it'll wipe you out," he said, understanding at last.

"The Other seeks to be strong. It needs this planet. We must prevent this."

"How?" he asked simply. "Right now, you've got nothing. Now, a couple hundred years in the future, you've got planes and guns and nuclear bombs and all the factories you could possibly want. What's 1865 got going for you?"

"The war," the Auton replied. "Human being are so very destructive on their own. We shall let them destroy each other, create chaos and anarchy and distrust, and then, once this country is ravaged, we shall come in and take control. Once this country is under our power, we shall begin again. Another war, another land, until all is destroyed and the Other has nothing left." It smiled, a razor sharp smile that looked very odd on the President's kind face. "Today America, tomorrow, the world."

The Doctor stared. "You're talking about the destruction of an _entire race_ , an entire planet. Billions of lives, gone, just so _your child_ won't survive."

The plastic President looked at him coldly. "Survival, Doctor, means that no cost is too high. It is humans or Nestenes. For us, the choice is clear."

"But that's where you're wrong, very wrong," said the Doctor airily. "See, this planet and these people are under my protection. I've been around for hundreds of years, watching over them, keeping an eye on them, just like you. Word gets around, I'm sure, you've seen countless other races come, thinking they could take a chunk out of this planet. Now ask yourself," he said, voice suddenly very cold, laden with every one of his nine hundred years, "what happened to them?"

The Auton was silent. "So you can tell this Mother," the Doctor continued, "that this choice, humans or Nestenes, is not one you can make. You have no authority over the lives of these people."

"And you have?" the Auton responded, a small smile crossing its face. "Tell me, Doctor, what gives you the authority to decide their lives? Your wisdom, your experience, your _goodness?"_ It laughed mockingly. "Power, Doctor, is all the authority you or I will ever need. You have the power of a Time Lord. One, lone, renegade Time Lord, while I..." the Auton gestured down at its plastic body. "I have all the power of the United States and the Nestene behind me." It smiled, a cruel, mocking smile. "I think it is time, Doctor, that you knew exactly what you're dealing with."

Before the Doctor's astonished eyes, Mr. Lincoln began to change. His form slowly melted down and out, expanding and swelling, knocking over furniture until standing before the Doctor was no longer the President, but an enormous green creature with numerous tentacles covered in angry red suckers and one giant eye. "Pleased to see you at last, Doctor," the Nestene said, its voice a deep croak, still many-layered and vibrating.

"Oh!" the Doctor said brightly. "Hello again! Haven't seen you looking like this in years! Not bad, considering your age." He gave one of the large tentacles an affectionate pat, much to the Nestene's astonishment. "So you've learned to take human form yourself, eh? 'Bout time, really. No more messing around with plastic soldiers. If you want something done right, do it yourself. Although I should tell you," he added conspiratorially, "didn't work out so good. Mr. Brooks must have malfunctioned somehow. Bit unfortunate, really," he said with a wink and a grin. "Otherwise you might have got away with it. How many have you got, anyway?" he asked, leaning casually on the side of the writing desk. "In America, how many Autons have you got?"

"Thousands," the creature rumbled, "all over the country, and more every moment. It is too late, Doctor."

"Thousands?" the Doctor exclaimed. "Thousands? In a country with a population of 31.4 million people, and you think thousands will make a difference? Let me tell you something, mate," he said, leaning forward and staring into the Nestene's one large eye. "Let me tell you something about the human race, and about you. See, there's only one of you. Well, two now, I suppose," he added, tilting his head sideways and thinking for a second, "but anyway. Two Nestenes against billions of humans. More importantly, two Nestenes against each other. You're having a war, yes you are, and so are they. But if every single person ever to fight in a war on Earth died, you know what? There would still be humanity. Because strength lies in numbers, not in power or technology or plastic tentacles like you've got, no." He shook his head emphatically. "Human beings will always bounce back. But you." He pushed off the writing desk and walked slowly around the massive creature. "There's just two of you, no matter how many different bits your split yourself into, no matter how many plastic creatures you control, there's _still just two_. I should think you'd be celebrating, really," he said suddenly, his manner changing completely.

"Celebrating?" queried the Nestene. "We shall celebrate our triumph once the Other is destroyed!"

"No, no, you're missing the point," the Doctor said impatiently. "There's two of you! Only a short while ago you were the only one, the last of your kind. I know how that feels, and I know that's not pretty. Your planet was destroyed, and the Time Lords are at fault, and I'm so terribly sorry. I am. I know how that feels to lose your home, lose everything you love. But now, you have hope! You have a chance of survival, of companionship! You can go out, find an empty planet, begin again! It's the chance of a lifetime!" he cried, clutching one of the creature's tentacles as if trying to force the idea right into it. "Don't you see? If human beings have a war," he said, more calmly, "they recover. If the Nestenes, the only two remaining Nestenes, fight each other, one dies, and then the other is left alone again. You know what that feels like, I know what that feels like, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone, much less my own child. 'Never trust the ones you love,' you said. Well, that's just your problem. Trust this child, nurture it, help it grow, and who knows what could happen!"

"The Other will destroy us!" the creature roared. "It is no child of ours!"

"It is, and you know it," the Doctor replied, not unkindly. "It's just going through a rebellious phase, you know how kids do when they leave home. You're bigger, you're older, you know so much more. Think of it: an innocent creature, lost and alone and scared. Of course it lashed out! What kind of parent leaves their child to fend for itself on an unfamiliar planet? And just think, with two of you, who knows what you could do! There's planets out there, _empty_ planets, just waiting for someone to come along and bring them to life. There's so much potential for you! And if territory's your problem, there's loads of whole galaxies, even universes. I can set it up so you'll be just a second apart for all of eternity. You'd never have to even see each other. I can help you! If you-"

"Doctor, enough!" The Nestene sliced the air with one massive limb. "This will not be prevented. There can be but one Mother Consciousness. You say you can help us? I say you can and you will. With the power of the Time Lord, we can destroy this upstart before it ever grows to power."

"I don't suppose I get a choice in the matter?" he asked hopefully. His only answer was one massive green tentacle whipping at him. He quickly ducked down below the heavy desk, leaving the limb to crash into the wall. Bits of plaster cascaded from the ceiling, coating the room, the Doctor, and the Nestene in a fine white dust. "Didn't think so," he muttered, before the desk was suddenly thrown out of the way. The Doctor leapt to his feet, diving over another tentacle that was snaking towards his foot. "And we were getting along so well!" he said admonishingly, rolling to his feet. His eyes lit on the window, and he bolted for it, narrowly avoiding tripping over an especially thick limb. He landed right in front of it, then turned to face the Nestene. "Come on, big boy," he said, eyes dancing. "Come and get me!"

The Nestene roared and struck. The Doctor hurled himself out of the way, covering his head as the massive tentacle smashed through the big bay windows of the presidential office. Glass shards flew everywhere, and the creature howled in pain as its skin was pierced by the now-jagged edges of the window-frame. Screams echoed from somewhere on the property. Seizing his chance, the Doctor leapt for the window, pausing only to look back at the Nestene. "Think about what I've said," he told it. "It's not too late." It only roared in anger and reached for him once more. "Very well, have it your way." And he threw himself out the broken window.

He fell into a massive tree, a grand old oak. He fell, bumping and crashing into limbs until he was able to catch himself and slow the descent. He dropped to the ground, pulling twigs and bits of leaves out of his hair, and ran out into the back lawn. When he glanced back up at the shattered glass, he saw the unmistakeable form of President Lincoln, standing looking down. The Doctor grinned and gave a sharp salute, then turned and jogged away into the trees of the White House back garden with only one though in his mind.

 _Find Donna._

* * *

 **A.N: That was the most fun I've had writing anything in a very long time. I do so love great grand speeches like that. Good fun. I hope you liked them too, and that I did the Doctor justice. I will say that I have very little to go off of for the Nestene, so some of this is speculation. I really don't know if it's possible for it to split in two, but you know what? Oh well. Its form is based off of the creature that attacked the third Doctor in "Spearhead from Space" and an illustration from the novel _Doctor Who and the Terror of the Autons._ Beyond that, I've extrapolated a bit. I don't think there's any canon to prove me wrong, but if you can come up with something, please please let me know. Inaccuracy is my biggest pet peeve in fanfiction, to be honest. Help me out, Whovian friends! Thanks again for reading, and please review! I love hearing from you!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


	7. Chapter 6

" _Get out, you raving lunatic!"_

The Doctor slammed the door shut, just in time to prevent the thrown vase from crashing into his skull. "Just trying to save your life!" he yelled, then winced as more shattering sounds could be heard. "That's gratitude for you," he muttered, hurrying down the hall to the next door and yanking it open. "Anyone in here, if you want to live, come with me!"

This bold pronouncement met only an empty room. The Doctor, casting a quick glance around, started to back out, when movement caught his eye. One floor-length curtain was swaying slightly, as if blown by a breeze, but the window behind it was shut. "Now that's odd," he said under his breath, slowly walking farther into the room. "What've we got here?" Expecting the worst, he yanked aside the curtain and leapt back.

"No, get 'way, no more, I don't wan' to thsee you any more, go 'way!"

A young boy flew out from behind the curtain, swinging a large wooden baseball bat frantically, shouting in an angry lisp.

"Woah, woah, careful there," the Doctor said, wrestling the bat away from the boy and pinning his arms to his sides. "You'll put someone's eye out. Now, what's the matter?"

"Monthsterth," the boy cried, struggling wildly. "They're coming for me!"

"Just calm down, lad," he said, kneeling before the frightened child and pulling him close. "What monsters?" he asked. "Describe them for me."

"Big monthsterth," he said, sobbing into the Doctor's already soaking sleeve. "Big human monthsterth, everywhere. They too' my Papa an' my Mama and they're gonna ta'e me too!"

"Human monsters," breathed the Doctor. "I may have met a few of them myself. Your mum and dad, you say? Took them how?"

"I dunno," the boy said through his tears. "They don' act the thsame way ath they uthed to. An' I thseen them," he said, eyes clouding over with terror. "I thseen Papa in hith offith talking to himthelf, and lighth and everything and ith terrible. Thomething'sth got my Papa an' my Mama an' I don' wan' them to get me!"

"Well, then," the Doctor said with a smile, lifting the lad's head up so one pair of brown eyes met the other. "It's lucky I'm here. I'm the Doctor, and I know all about monsters, human or otherwise. I can fix your parents up just fine for you, how's that sound?"

The boy looked trustingly into the Time Lord's eyes. "You promith?"

He smiled. "I promise," he said, taking the boy's hand and getting to his feet. "Now then, what's your name?"

"I'm Tad," said the boy, clasping the Doctor's hand in his own much smaller one.

"Tad," he repeated. "That's a fine name. Do you live here, Tad?"

"Yeth. I know thith plathe like the back of my hand," he lisped proudly.

"Wonderful," said the Doctor with feeling. "I don't suppose you could help me find the quickest way out of here?" Grinning, Tad nodded. "Right then," he said, returning the grin. "Lead the way."

The boy took off, out the door and down the hall, practically dragging the Doctor along behind him. As they walked, the Doctor said conversationally, that's quite a lisp you've got there."

"Yeth, I know," Tad said comfortably. "Papa sthays my mouth is built different. Nurthe says I won't ever thpeak properly."

"Well," said the Doctor, "she doesn't seem very nice."

Tad tugged the much taller Doctor down so he could whisper in his ear. "I don't like her at all. She'th mean."

The Time Lord smiled down at the boy. "You know, I think you could learn to speak just fine, if you try."

Tad looked up at him with shining eyes. "You think stho?"

"I really do," he replied earnestly. "I mean, look at you. Both parents taken away by plastic soldiers, scared out of your mind, and you go after them with a bat. You've got a lot of determination and courage for a boy. How old are you?"

"Twelve," said Tad proudly. "And what's plastic?"

"Er...never mind that," the Doctor said hastily. "You'll see in about fifty years."

"Alright then," the boy said amiably.

The Doctor smiled. Children were simply so trusting, so willing to accept the fantastic and unbelievable. _Shame so many grow out of it so quickly,_ he thought ruefully. Grabbing the boy' hand once more, he set off down the hall. "Come on, then," he said cheerfully. "I need to find my friend."

* * *

Donna stood on the front lawn of the White House in the midst of a milling crowd of people, tapping her foot impatiently. Leave it to the Doctor to disappear and leave her with no idea what was going on. She looked back at the large building behind her, which was remarkably serene, given the chaos going on inside its walls.

"So now what?" asked the ever present Andrew Johnson, hovering just behind her elbow. She heaved a sigh.

"No idea," she said wearily. "Wait, I suppose."

"Wait? What for?"

"The Doctor, of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "Seems like I'm always waiting for him. I waited for him for months once."

"The Doctor? Did you perhaps bring a physician along on your trip?"

"Oh no," said Donna, laughing. "Ambassador Smith. He's called the Doctor back home," she added, stretching the truth only slightly.

"And what is he a doctor of?"

"Oh, everything," she said airily. "Everything and nothing all at the same time. But he forgets sometimes," she said wistfully before Johnson could interject. "He forgets and he leaves and he hurts people. Or maybe he doesn't forget, I don't know exactly. He's hard to really know, really truly. He talks so much, but he hardly ever says a thing."

"Well. How inconsiderate," Johnson said primly. "To leave a Lady Ambassador behind for so very long a time."

"Yes, well, that's how he is," she said, although fondly. "Always on the way to somewhere. Somewhere else to visit, someone else to save, Sometimes he looks so incredibly tired, like he hasn't really had a proper rest in hundreds of years."

"Hundreds?" asked Johnson, as though he hadn't quite heard properly. "Did you say hundreds?"

"Of course not," Donna said quickly, realizing her mistake. "You must be hearing things. Busy crowd, you know."

He gave her a curious look, but asked no further. Instead he said, "This Doctor, is he...your husband?"

"Oh, no," said Donna quickly. "No, not married, never married. Just friends. Why do you ask?"

"Your Excellency," came a cry, forestalling Johnson's answer, "someone's coming." Donna shoved her way through the crowd, Johnson just behind, to see Betsy advancing along the lawn, followed by several other people.

"Betsy," Donna said in relief. "We couldn't imagine where you'd got to, are you alright?"

"Perfectly, dear," she said, her kind voice brisk. "Just collecting some friends." She gestured back at the people behind her. Donna glanced at the group. They were a very mixed crew: young, old, wealthy, poor, but they all had one thing in common - and odd, curiously blank expression, as though they were trying to stifle pain.

"Well, good, that's-" She faltered. "I recognize you," she said pointing at the young gentleman whom she had first examined. "You...you..." _You're an Auton,_ she thought, but aloud she said, "You were supposed to see Mr. Lincoln! What're you doing here?"

"Mr. Lincoln requests your presence in his office immediately," the man said, all trace of his earlier nervousness gone. "Come with us or face the consequences."

Donna looked at him suspiciously. "Betsy?" she asked uncertainly. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Lincoln requests your presence in his office immediately," the old woman said, the same blank look now filling her wizened face. "Come with us or face the consequences."

"And what are the consequences?" she asked, knowing what the answer would be. In reply, the whole group as one raised their right hands, fingers tight together, to point at Donna. That was all she needed to see and they knew it. "Well," she said in a huff, more annoyed than frightened. "Right then. If you must." She turned to Johnson, who was staring open-mouthed, and put her hand out. "Screwdriver. Now."

"I beg your pardon?" the astonished gentleman asked.

"The sonic screwdriver. Prototype camera, whatever I called it. I need it." Quickly, the befuddled man fished in his pocket and handed her the sonic. As soon as it came into view, the heads of the entire group before them snapped immediately to it.

"He carries the Doctor's weapon," said Betsy, her voice both excited and afraid, her face still devoid of expression. "He is an associate of the Doctor."

"Who, him?" said Donna, forcing her voice to be casual and cheerful. "No no, not at all. He's just carrying this for me. Dresses, you know. No pockets. And that's not a weapon."

"Associate of the Doctor, come with us. Mr. Lincoln requests your presence in his office immediately."

"How can he?" Johnson asked incredulously, his voice a bit unsteady. "He didn't know I would be here today, much less with the Ambassador."

"Mr. Lincoln requests your presence in his office immediately. Come with us or face the consequences." Betsy's kind face was blank and hard as the sandstone pillars behind her.

"What's going on here?" he whispered to Donna.

"Just do as they say," she hissed, turning back to her little crowd of refugees. "Stay here until someone comes for you," she said to the little maid, who nodded. Then Donna stepped forward, clutching the sonic in one trembling hand. "Right then," she said bravely. "Let's go meet Lincoln." The group spread out, surrounding Donna and Johnson, and began herding them back towards the White House.

"Miss Noble, I really must insist on an explanation. How did Mr. Lincoln know I was here?"

"He doesn't," Donna said briskly, although not unkindly. "He's not here either, not really."

"But he is!" the Vice President exclaimed. "I saw him mere hours ago."

"Keep your voice down!" He dropped his voice immediately, looking ashamed.

"I saw him!" he whispered.

"That's not him," she said bluntly. "What you saw this morning isn't human. It's a robot."

"A _what?"_

"A robot, a plastic robot."

"I'm sorry," the man said, "I'm not familiar with that term. Is that perhaps some kind of foreign word?"

"Oh!' exclaimed Donna in frustration. "Listen, you're just going to have to trust me. Your President isn't here, none of these people are real, and your country may be in very great danger."

"I see," said Johnson, rubbing his chin. Plainly he did not see at all. "And this Doctor?"

Donna sighed. "He's the only one who can fix this. If only he'd show up-" Her foot hit hard stone and she tripped forward, saved only by Johnson's firm hand on her elbow. They had reached the steps leading up to the White House portico. She looked up the staircase and saw two Autons at the top, waiting. Betsy gave her shove from behind.

"Mr. Lincoln requests your presence in his office immediately."

"Yes, alright, we heard the first time," Donna said irritably. "We're going." She started boldly up the steps. "But I'm telling you, when the Doctor gets word of this, you're going to wish you'd never been born!"

"Get's word of what?"

Donna whirled around. Leaning on a pillar behind her, hands tucked casually in his pockets, was the Doctor. He shot her a grin. "Did you miss me?" She beamed at him. "Autons aren't born, by the way," he added. "They're manufactured."

"Not in the mood for a lecture, thanks," she said tartly, dashing to the top of the stairs and throwing the screwdriver to him. Suddenly, a small boy stepped out from behind the pillar. "Who's that?" she asked, running over to them.

"Oh yes," said the Doctor, tugging the reluctant boy out of the shadow of the column. "This is Tad. He's been a most excellent guide."

"Another of your strays, is he?" Donna asked, bending down to the boy's level. "Hello Tad. I'm Donna."

Tad smiled. "Pleathed to meet you, Mith Donna."

"The Doctor has been found!" cried one of the Autons to the group below. "We must apprehend him!"

"Apprehend me, eh?" the Doctor said, snatching the screwdriver out of the air. "We'll see about that." The two plastic men advanced on the Doctor, arms outstretched. One fired, and the Doctor ducked, letting the bullet ricochet off the stone wall behind him with a terrible screeching noise. The Autons recoiled, clutching their heads. "Ha ha!" he cried triumphantly. "Don't like that noise, do you? Well I've got something you'll like even more." He held up the screwdriver, fiddling with the settings.

"Miss Noble," Johnson said from below, "you may want to look behind you." His voice shook. Donna inwardly shook her head. _Some people just can't take it,_ she thought, hurrying to the top of the stairs. The group of Autons below were ascending the stairs, kindly Betsy at the head. "I demand you stop at once," Johnson commanded, walking boldly down the stairs to confront the old woman. "Her Excellency will be treated with respect." Without changing expression, the plastic Betsy grabbed the man's jacket and slammed him against the edge of the staircase. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Doctor!" Donna cried, but he was busy above, still trying to adjust the sonic.

"Can you take it, Donna?" he asked, distracted "Right then," she said to herself. "Up to me." She boldly faced the group coming up the stairs.

"Mr. Lincoln requests your presence in his office immediately," Betsy said again, her voice oddly threatening.

"I've had about enough of you," Donna said angrily, and gave the older woman a shove. She careened backwards, tumbling back down the sandstone steps and knocking the other Autons back and down the stairs to land in a tangled heap in the grass. "Well," Donna said smugly, dusting off her hands as she watched them trying to regroup. "So much for them." She turned around and was about to return to the Doctor when she heard a groan.

"Donna..."

She whirled around and saw Mr. Johnson just beginning to stir. "Oh!" she exclaimed, hurrying down the steps as fast as her wet dress would allow. She knelt down next to him, trying to help him sit up. "Doctor," she called, wiping her bedraggled hair out of her face. "I need your help!"

"Just a moment more," he called back. "Screwdriver's all wet and sweaty, it's not working properly." Donna swallowed guiltily, glancing at her patient, but the prone man only laughed, albeit weakly.

"Thank goodness for my pockets," he said faintly. "At least I could do something for you."

"Don't talk like that," Donna said fiercely. "You're going to be just fine. Probably just a bruise, or a concussion, or, or...I don't know, I'm only a temp from Chiswick, but you'll be alright."

Johnson only smiled. "It's okay, it's fine. Miss Noble...Donna...I-"

His words were cut off by an exclamation from the Doctor and a high pitched, pulsing noise that sounded like the sonic screwdriver. Both man and woman winced, but their discomfort was nothing compared to that of the Autons. The group below, only just beginning to make their way back up the stairs, recoiled, clapping plastic hands to plastic ears and staggering about. The Doctor appeared at the top of the stairs, along with young Tad. "Donna, come on!" he cried. "They won't stay like this for long!"

"I can't leave him!" she yelled back. "He's here because of me!"

The Doctor appeared to be about to object, then sighed in exasperation, hurrying down the stairs. "Bother your good nature," he huffed. He seized the barely-conscious man under one armpit, gesturing frantically for Donna to do the same. Together they hoisted the man to his feet and hauled him up the stone steps. Tad hurried over to try to assist. They heaved the vice president into the White House and set him down on an upholstered bench, where he lay sprawled.

"He isn't going to die, is he?" Donna asked, panting. "He becomes president, doesn't he? After Lincoln...He's got to live."

The Doctor shook his head. "Time is in flux, Donna," he said seriously. "None of this was ever supposed to happen. History has no meaning. Anything is possible now."

Before Donna could respond, the doorkeeper came hurrying into the hall.

"Is he alright?" the man asked, running to Johnson's side and checking his pulse.

"He, er, hit a wall," said Donna awkwardly. "Rather hard."

"In the confusion, we were trying to escape and he slipped," the Doctor supplied smoothly. "Doorkeeper Pendel, was it?"

Mr. Pendel bowed. "Yes, your Excellency," he said politely.

"Doorkeeper, the emergency is past. Only a slight pipe leak in the President's office," he said pleasantly. "Please take..." He glanced at Donna, slightly panicked.

"Vice President Johnson," she said quickly, filling in the gap. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at the identity of their companion, but continued.

"Please take Mr. Johnson to a hospital to have him examined."

"Right away, your Excellency." The portly doorkeeper hurried off, calling for assistance. Soon several brawny servants had come to take Johnson away.

"Wait," the invalid said. He beckoned Donna closer, who hurried to oblige. "Miss Noble," he said quietly, "once all this - whatever this is - is over, perhaps I could pay a call on you in England. I've long wanted to visit Europe, and I think I may have found the perfect companion."

Donna blushed. "Well, I think that might be-"

"Don't start, he's married," the Doctor whispered in her ear.

"Entirely impossible," Donna continued smoothly, her face hardly registering her astonishment. The injured gentleman nodded.

"I expected as much," he said with a sigh. "You are a remarkable woman, your Excellency." Donna watched as he was carried away.

"And you are a remarkable man," she whispered. The Doctor nudged her.

"Married!" he hissed again. She winked at him.

"Jealous?" she asked teasingly. He shook his head, laughing.

"Tad!" cried a voice. An elderly maid hurried into the room. "Master Tad, we've been looking everywhere! Come in at once." She bustled over to the boy, who clung to the Doctor's coattails.

"Mithter, I don't wan' to go with her," he said miserably. "There'th monstherth."

The Doctor knelt down and gripped the boy's shoulders. "Tad, listen to me. I will take care of the monsters, very soon. I promise. Right now I need you to be brave and to stay here, alright? Keep an eye out for things that shouldn't be there. Trust me, lad. If you can get through this, you can get through anything. And that includes fighting that lisp, alright? So don't give up, not ever."

The boy nodded, staring into the Doctor's eyes, then slowly walked over to his nursemaid. "Come now, Master Tad," she fussed. "Your Papa will want to know you're alright."

"Who's your Papa?" the Doctor called as they two began to go. The maid turned back to him, scandalized.

"Why, President Lincoln, of course!" She bustled out, taking her young charge with her as Donna and the Doctor traded astonished looks. Soon they were left alone.

"So now what?" Donna asked her companion, who grinned and pulled a key out of his pocket.

"Time to go," he said. Moments later, the TARDIS materialized around them. "I thought one scenic walk might be enough," he said, darting to the control panel and prepping for flight.

"But we can't just leave!" cried Donna. "A whole country full of plastic robots and you want to just leave them?"

"Oh, we'll be coming right back," he said reassuringly. "I never walk away. It's us they want now, those Autons. They daren't show their hand too early in the game." He pulled a lever and the TARDIS began to take off. "Change your clothes, Donna," he said with a rakish grin. "We'll be seeing Mr. Lincoln again very soon. And this time, I have a funny idea we'll see him for real."

* * *

 **A.N: Blimey this is long! Jiminy Christmas. Can't hardly believe it. We have maybe two chapters to go, which is good because I have three more days, not counting the rest of today, to finish it, AND I'm at a family reunion! Yikes! So anyway, I feel as though this chapter isn't quite as good as I hoped it would be, and maybe that's just me. I don't know. But it may get changed some, so I'll apologize in advance for that. I just feel a bit unsettled, which isn't a good thing. So let me know what you think! Wish me luck in finishing on time, and please review!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


	8. Chapter 7

"What's going on?" whispered Donna, peering through her opera glasses. She had lost track of the plot of the play long ago, choosing instead to watch her fellow theatregoers - and one in particular. Mr. Lincoln was seated in the Presidential Box, along with his wife and a young couple she had been informed were one Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancée, Clara Harris. The Doctor, however, was engrossed.

"Richard Coyle - that's him there - is telling Sir Edward Trenchard - with the mustache - that his family is facing bankruptcy unless they can pay off the debt he says they owe him, which they really paid off years ago," he said rapidly without ever once taking his eyes off the stage. "And Coyle wants to marry Trenchard's daughter Florence, but she hates him."

"Sounds like some American soap," Donna muttered. "Why would you want to watch that when you could be out seeing the stars?"

"I live that every day," he replied, eyes pressed up against the lenses of his opera glasses. "This sort of life is the one thing I can never have."

"And this is the kind of life you want," she stated flatly, disbelieving. He only shrugged. "Oh, come on!" she exclaimed with a grin, bumping his shoulder with hers. She was instantly shushed by several other patrons. "Sorry!" she whispered. Slowly the heads turned back to the stage. The Doctor looked up from his glasses, annoyed. "That's no life, even for us lowly humans, who don't get to see incredible things all the time," she whispered. "Bickering and lying and getting married off like a horse to the highest bidder." She rolled her eyes, much to his amusement. "What?" she demanded, seeing his snicker. He waved her off.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "That's just a very accurate description." She nodded once, satisfied.

"So can we do it now?" she asked. "Go on, no one's looking."

"In my experience, someone is always looking," the Doctor said, raising his opera glasses once more. "And besides," he added from behind the thick round lenses, "we have to stick to the timeline."

She sighed and settled in to wait. She glanced down at her program. 'Our American Cousin,' it declared in bold, thick font. 'A drama in three acts.' She sighed again, then poked the Doctor.

"Oi," she said, keeping her voice down low. "What's the time?" With an irritated huff, the Doctor set aside his glasses and pulled out a fob watch on a long silver chain.

"10:25," he read, before clicking the watch closed and stowing it in his breast pocket. "Any minute now."

"Doctor," Donna hissed, "are you really going to do this? Watch a man get assassinated right in front of you?"

"Donna, we've been over this," he said coldly. "It's a fixed point in time, there's nothing we can do. Lincoln _has_ to die tonight, history says so."

"But time is in flux, isn't it?" she said desperately. "You said so yourself, anything's possible now."

The Doctor turned to her, eyes hard. "Donna, this is not the President," he said flatly. "This isn't even a living thing. It is a _plastic robot._ So's his wife, and probably they are too," he said, indicating Major Rathbone and his bride-to-be. "By killing this body, as history says must happen, we force the Nestene to unmask itself, to show the world that it's here. It can't hide anymore, Donna, and if it can't hide, it can't live. This _has_ to happen."

"But if his death already happened, shouldn't everyone know about them already? In the future, I mean. We'd have heard something." He glanced at her sideways. "We would have," she said confidently. "Wouldn't we?"

He shrugged. "Not necessarily," he said. "Remember the Slitheen invasion in 2005?"

"The _what?"_

"The Slitheen. Came down to London, killed the Prime Minister and countless others, impersonated big members of the government, tried to spark World War III just to sell the remains to the highest bidder. Announced to the whole planet that the world was in danger from an alien threat and they must work together to stop it. Excellent advice, really. It was all over the news."

"Oh, that," Donna said dismissively. "It was just a hoax, all the papers said so. Aliens wouldn't really take over a government and impersonate it's leaders..." Then the penny dropped. "Oh," she said, feeling very small. "Oh, I see."

"Exactly," the Doctor said kindly. "If even you, a brilliant woman who's been through time and space, can't see things like that for what they really are, what's to say these people, with so many more limitations on what is possible, will be able to accept it?" Donna looked away, troubled. "Lincoln has to die, Donna," he said, his voice gentle. "In only a few moments, a man named John Wilkes Booth is going to come in here with a gun and shoot him in the back of the head. We aren't going to do anything about it. Understand? Let history take it's course."

Donna crossed her arms with a huff. "I might have a few things to say about that," she said angrily.

"Oh, I'm sure you will," said the Doctor, checking his fob watch once more. "And you can say whatever you want in about twenty minutes, alright?" She refused to look at him. "Donna, I've been all over time and space," he said gravely. "I've been dealing with things like this for centuries, and _I know what I'm doing._ I know you must trust me, or you wouldn't still be alive. Trust me one more time." They heard a door creak open behind them and saw a dark figure slip in through the side door, a pistol held in one outstretched hand. "There's Mr. Booth, right on schedule," he whispered. "What'll it be?"

She looked at him at last. "Doctor," she said, taking his hand, "I trust you with my life. Really I do. But there is one thing that I've got that you haven't, that I will always trust more than anything."

"And what's that?"

"Human intuition!" Before the Doctor could stop her, Donna jumped to her feet and lunged for the man. Catching him completely by surprise, she managed to wrestle the weapon out of his fingers. Recovering quickly from the shock, Booth grabbed for the gun. "Doctor, catch!" Donna cried, tossing it behind her. The burly man tried to push his way past Donna along the aisle to get to the Doctor, but she planted herself firmly in the way, shoving with all her might. "Get rid of it," she called to the Doctor, who had snatched the pistol out of the air and was turning it around and around in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Donna," he said, his eyes full of sadness. "History must be fulfilled." With that, he raised the gun and pointed it directly at the oblivious President's head.

"Doctor, no!" she cried desperately, but he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The blast echoed through the theatre, making heads turn everywhere. Mr. Lincoln made no sound, only slumped forward in his chair. His wife reached for him, then screamed as she saw what had occurred.

"Please stay calm," the Doctor said, dropping the pistol and vaulting over the row of seats to land next to the unconscious President. "In a moment, you may see something very extraordinary and inexplicable, but don't worry, I'm here to help. Inspector Smith, commonly called the Doctor," he said, flashing the psychic paper.

"Grab that man!" cried the Major, ignoring the Doctor completely and lunging after Booth, who shoved Donna to the ground and bolted for the door. The Doctor, seeing the problem at once, grabbed Booth's arm, yanking him back. The would-be assassin pulled out a knife and stabbed violently at the Doctor.

Time seemed to stand still. Donna, scrambling to her feet, saw the glinting silver of the blade slipping towards the Doctor's left heart as if in slow-motion. Frozen, unable to help or even cry out, she watched him turn to see the imminent danger, watched his expression go rapidly from confusion to fear to grim acceptance. The knife plunged ever closer, piercing the Doctor's crisp suit jacket. Donna stared, horrified and yet unable to look away.

And then, at the last possible second, Clara Harris flew in from nowhere, shoving Booth's arm away. The knife went askew, piercing not the Doctor's heart, but her fiancé's arm. Major Rathbone made no sound, even though Donna could see he was struck clear to the bone. Young Clara gasped and turned ghost white, staring with wide eyes at the blood running down her intended's arm as Booth yanked the knife out. Then she fainted dead away.

"Doctor," Donna yelled, time snapping back to the present, "Do something!" The Doctor caught the unconscious young woman, settling her gently into the seat next to Mary Lincoln, who was clutching her mortally wounded husband and sobbing. The Doctor glanced at the dying President, a confusion filling his face.

"He shouldn't be bleeding," he said quietly, bending down to examine him closer. His concentration was broken, however, when the Major, recovering his composure remarkably quickly considering the long-bladed knife so recently plunged into his upper arm, lunged after Booth once again, knocking into the Doctor in the process. The assassin, seeking the most direct exit, was climbing onto the ledge of the box when Rathbone grabbed his coat. His intended smooth leap turned into an awkward vault and he tumbled over the edge of the box, nearly pulling Rathbone with him, and disappeared from view.

Donna, Rathbone, and the Doctor all dashed to the edge of the box, peering down onto the stage. They saw the man land awkwardly on his left leg, which Donna knew had to have hurt him a great deal, but he raised his bloody knife in the air and staggered across the stage. He shouted something, some triumphant phrase, but in all the din from the confused audience, no one was quite sure later what it was.

"They think he's part of the play!" gasped Donna, looking around at the faces of the audience below. "Doctor, they don't know what's going on!"

"Stop that man!" Rathbone cried. One man, a well-dressed, lawyerly fellow, jumped up and dashed for the stage, climbing over the orchestra pit and the footlights to pursue the fleeing assassin across the stage. As comprehension slowly dawned, others joined the chase. Rathbone, helped along by his young, recovered fiancee, hurried out of the box in search of medical help. The Doctor, however, turned back to Lincoln, still slumped forward in his seat. Ignoring Mary's shrilled protests, he checked for a pulse, then peeled back one eyelid to examine the poor man's unfocused eye.

"That's odd," he muttered, now examining the wound itself.

"What's odd?" Donna demanded.

"Everything seems to be normal," he said distractedly. "Well, normal enough for a man who's just been shot." Mary wailed. Ignoring her, the Doctor dabbed one finger in the blood gushing from the wound and stared closely at it, then tasted it, earning revolted looks from Donna and Mary. He licked his lips for a moment, considering, then turned pale. "Donna," he said slowly, "I may have made a bit of a mistake."

"What sort of a mistake?" she asked cautiously. Mary drew in a sharp breath, listening attentively.

"Well, he's bleeding," he said simply. "There's great lots of blood all over everywhere. Type A positive, if I'm not mistaken."

"So what? He's been shot. What else do you expect?" snapped Mary, angrily wiping her eyes. "My husband's been shot and all you can do is tell me you've made a mistake? You didn't shoot him!"

The Doctor winced. Donna sat down next to the distraught woman and carefully put one arm around her. "Mrs. Lincoln, please don't worry," she said kindly. "This isn't your husband."

"Of course he is, idiot! I think I know my husband better than you do!" Mary cried. "We were married for 22 years!"

"Ma'am, you'll have to trust me," Donna said, ignoring frantic looks from the Doctor. "This is an alien impersonating your husband. Mr. Lincoln is missing right now, but we'll find him. I promise. But then I don't have to tell you this, do I?" Donna said, shaking her head. "You're an alien too, aren't you?"

The smaller woman drew herself up to her full height, pulling on all the dignity she had left. "Madame, I beg you not to insult me. Do not attempt to console me with children's tales. Do not make promises you cannot keep. My husband is gone forever, and no amount of wishing can bring him back." She burst into tears, beginning to sob uncontrollably. Just then, they heard Major Rathbone shout from the door. Donna looked over to see a young man, presumably a surgeon, rush into the room, bypass the bleeding Rathbone, and hurry to the fallen President's side, taking no notice of the time travelers. The Doctor took Donna's hand and they stepped out of the way, to the back of the box.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Donna asked, her voiced hushed as they watched the commotion. "Where's the big reveal, eh? The proof that aliens exist?"

The Doctor sighed, refusing to look at her. "Doctor," she said, dreading the answer, "you mentioned a mistake?"

"He was bleeding," the Doctor replied, still avoiding her eyes. "Plastic doesn't bleed. Plastic doesn't die. Even the Nestene itself wouldn't be harmed by a simple bullet. They'd absorb it, no problem."

"But he didn't," Donna said gently, knowing what was coming. "He's dying, right now, isn't he?"

The Doctor looked at her at last, his eyes full of guilt and pain. "Donna...I just murdered the President."

Donna looked at him, broken, guilty, hating himself, and could not bring herself to blame him. Instead she put her arms around him, hugging him close. He hugged her back, burying his head in her shoulder. They stood, locked together in pain and compassion, as Mr. Lincoln was rushed out. When at last they broke apart, they were alone in the theater box. "You were right," he said, a hint of a grim smile on his face. "You were right all along. Human intuition." He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "I never learn, do I?"

Donna smiled and took his hand. "History must be fulfilled, right?" she said kindly. "It was bound to happen one way or another. A fixed point in time. Nothing to be done." He smiled at her, eyes full of tears. "You can only do so much, Doctor," she added. "Don't you dare see yourself as a failure."

"You're brilliant, Donna Noble," he said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Really, truly, brilliant."

Without another word, the two left the box, arm in arm, to face what they had done.

* * *

 **A.N: ALMOST DONE! Holy shamoley I am so tired. Very very long tech rehearsal plus lots of driving plus sad writing and yeah. I'm a bit of a mess. But I'm almost done with this beast, just one more chapter to tie it all up, and thank goodness, because the due date fast approaches. I'm not super sold on the ending of this chapter, I'll be honest, so if you've got a better idea, please hit me up. My judgement isn't great at the moment, not going to lie. Also, I would like to again point out that this is as historically accurate as I could make it. If you go look up the details of the Lincoln assassination, you'll find this fits in quite nicely. Also, the happy coincidence of the Lincolns sharing a box with a young lady named Clara...all over time and space, born to save the Doctor. Oh yes. I was very happy when I found that out. I had a few comments on Tad's lisp in the last chapter as well, and I would like to point out that he did indeed have a cleft palate and it's not just me making things up. So! Thank you all so much for reading, and stick around for the last hurrah!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


	9. Chapter 8

Donna and the Doctor walked out of the theater into the complete chaos of the street. Leaving behind the commotion of running, shouting, sobbing people, they strolled to the end of the street where the TARDIS sat, quietly tucked into the edge of an alleyway. As they approached the blue box through the growing darkness, all sounds of panic and fear died away, leaving them in an oddly peaceful silence. When at last they reached the TARDIS, Donna opened the door and went in. The Doctor, about to follow her, stopped at the sight of two figures standing in the alley, one very tall, one very short.

"Donna, go ahead," he said, stepping away from the door. "I've got one last thing to do."

"What-"

"Donna. Just go." With one last look at her Time Lord friend, Donna stepped back inside the TARDIS, pushing the door closed behind her. The Doctor pulled out his key and locked the door tight, then stepped further into the alley. "I'm here," he said loudly into the darkness. "I'm here."

"Doctor," said a familiar voice. "We knew you would come." Out of the shadows stepped the tall, craggy form of Abraham Lincoln, late President of the United States. Next to him stood the much smaller figure of Tad Lincoln, holding tight to his father's hand. The Doctor's face hardened.

"You never quite give in, do you?" he asked. "Of all the forms you could have taken, you chose two you knew would hurt me."

The Nestene inclined its head. "Of course, Doctor. Nothing in your life has ever been easy or kind. You have made a grave mistake, murdered an innocent man. It seemed only fit that you be reminded of that."

"Don't," the Doctor said. "Don't try to make me feel guilty. I will make my peace my own way. You are just as much to blame as I. You just can't resist, can you? Even in surrendering you have to hurt as many people as you can." Young Tad looked up at his father, face full of childish glee. "And you're teaching your child the same way," the Doctor said in disgust. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Survival, Doctor," the creature said. "Humans or Nestenes. Today..." It shrugged. "Today it is both. Tomorrow this may come again. It is senseless not to take precautions."

The Doctor stepped forward, looking both father and son directly in the eye, one after the other. "It ends here. Understand? Taking over the Earth, murdering its people, _it ends here._ This planet is protected, its people guarded by my power. Take your child and go. Leave them in peace and I will do the same for you. And be warned: I have hunted things far greater and more terrible than you. I can travel to the ends of time and space and there is nowhere for you to run, nowhere for you to hide. Leave this planet and never return."

"And we intend to do just that," the elder Nestene said coolly, though its offspring looked nervous. "But we have come to collect on a promise."

"I owe you nothing," snarled the Doctor. "Nothing. Hear me?"

The Nestene Lincoln smiled coldly. "You would so like to think so, Doctor, but we both know that is not true. What was it you said to your companion? 'I never break a promise'?" It laughed. "How little your word means, Doctor."

"Stop it," the Doctor said, face full of cold fury. "Stop it right now." But the Nestene only smiled cruelly and went on.

"You paint for yourself an image of the renegade Time Lord, flying through time, saving countless lives, beholden to nothing and no one. Do you ever stop to consider the damage you leave behind? The destruction that follows wherever you go? Perhaps you like it," the creature said, considering him mockingly. "Perhaps it keeps you needed, gives you a purpose. The Doctor," it sneered, stepping close to the Time Lord and staring down at him. "The healer, the one who makes things better. Have you counted the cost? Have you totaled up all the pain and sorrow and ruin you've created, just by trying to help?"

"2.47 billion children," the Doctor muttered, eyes glazing over. Then he snapped back to the present. "You've made a very big mistake," he said, voice as hard and as sharp as a diamond. "That is what keeps me going, keeps me fighting. The pain, the destruction, the death I have caused is more than you will ever know, more than you could possibly imagine. I will work for the rest of my life to make up for that. I am the Doctor. That is my name and I will live up to it."

"Ah, my dear deluded Doctor," the Nestene said mockingly. "I'm afraid it is far too late for that."

The Doctor stared up at the alien, eyes blazing. "Enough," he snapped. "Tell me what you want and get off this planet."

"We want what you promised us," piped the younger Nestene. "A planet for our home. Just for us."

"A planet?" asked the Doctor, considering. "An empty planet..." He thought for a moment, the rage slowly draining from his face. "Probably an empty solar system as well, can't take chances...Nowhere too hot...Got it! You can follow me, I trust?" he said, inclining his head towards the blue phone box standing just behind him.

"Our transportation is sufficient," the Nestene said. "We can follow where you lead."

"Right then," said the Doctor, springing for the TARDIS door and unlocking it. "Let's get going!"

* * *

Someone walking down the street in the early Tuesday morning of April 15th, 1865, would experience a good deal of extraordinary things. They might hear the screaming sobs of the newly widowed Mary Lincoln. They would almost certainly hear the screams and prayers that surrounded the boarding house that night. They might hear the news being passed from mouth to mouth: "President Lincoln is dead!" And if they listened very, very hard, they might hear a whooshing, whirring noise quite unlike any that exists on this planet. Several observers saw a streak of light shooting up from an alleyway farther down the street. Only two beings in the whole of the universe saw the Nestenes land on their new home planet, billions of light years away. And only Donna Noble saw the pain and relief on the face of the very last of the Time Lords as he closed his TARDIS door and took off for another adventure.

* * *

 **A.N: I made it! I'm done! Hallelujah! I'm quite proud of that narration at the end. For some reason I can just hear River Song saying it as you watch each of these things happen in turn...I've got chills, I'll be perfectly honest. But anyway, here it is! My first ever completed story! I shall be turning it in to the competition people in a few minutes, and I might post another 'chapter' with results when I get them, if you all would be so inclined. I'm very happy to have this done, but also kind of sad. It's like a child moving out - still mine, but I can't influence what happens to it anymore. However, this means I can return to my other story, The Mystery Girl, which has been sadly neglected in favor of this one here. If you haven't had a look at that yet, please feel free! Thank you all so much, you beautiful individuals, for sticking with me to the very end! You will never know how much I appreciate it. Much love to you all!**

 **-Forever the Optimist**


End file.
